


It's My Fault

by emjam



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: By Like A Year, Crying, Emotional Constipation, Father-Son Relationship, Gem Fusion, Gen, Guilt, Post-Canon, Post-Steven Universe Future, just an honest conversation tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:40:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27484402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emjam/pseuds/emjam
Summary: “That song we performed… it was so on-the-fly, andcool, and-and we both know it really came from our - uh - Steg’s heart. Hearts?” He wrinkles his nose at that and keeps going. “But did you, um, did you feel anyguiltduring all that?”It’s then that he asks Steven the same thing, even though he knows the answer. “Well. Did you?”[Steven and Greg have an important talk, even though it's a couple years late.]
Relationships: Greg Universe & Steven Universe
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38





	It's My Fault

“I didn’t expect Beach City to look so different.”

“Yeah?” Greg smiles at Steven’s words and carefully tunes his old acoustic. He plucks a string, frowns, and twists its tuning peg. “What’s different about it? To be honest, it’s all same-old to me.”

“I dunno!” Steven shrugs. There’s the _click-hiss_ of him cracking open a can of lemon-flavored sparkling water. Greg’s never understood that stuff, least of all because it never tastes the way the can says it does, but he’s gotta commend Steven for going a much healthier route than his dad did. At Steven’s age, Greg was all pizzas and beers.

Heck, until recently he had _still_ been all pizzas and beers. Greg doesn’t know what changed, exactly, but maybe living in an actual house has something to do with it.

“I think -” Steven smacks his lips. “I think it might just be ‘cause I was gone, y’know? Like, living here, I didn’t really notice new stuff ‘cause it happened slowly. But coming back, the boardwalk looks _really_ different.”

“Yeah, Spacetries went through some construction after Lars handed it over to Blue Lace Agate. And tourism around here’s been getting kind of crazy, now that I think about it…” Greg rubs his neck. “Wow, I guess a lot did change. Huh.”

“Who knew that becoming a gateway city for aliens would make people wanna visit?” Steven jokes into his can, and takes a sip.

“It’s funny.” Greg looks out across the beach, guitar fitting his hands like it was made just for him. He smiles wistfully at the water. “I always thought this ocean view would’ve been enough.”

The deep blue waves crawl in and out on the shore, being painted bold warm hues as the sun begins to set. Seagulls caw in the distance, forming dark silhouettes against calm puffs of clouds. Despite everything, the beach always stays the same, just like the grounding feeling of the van’s floor hard against his legs.

“Um… Dad?”

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“Can we talk about something?”

Greg flattens his hands against the guitar’s wooden body with a soft noise. “You know you can talk to me about anything.” He finally looks over to his son, who’s been doing some growing recently. In the past year since the start of his road trip, a few dark hairs have collected along Steven’s jaw and extended down from his sideburns. His hair has gotten longer and curlier.

Greg tries to communicate his caring with his eyes, and hopes Steven sees it. “You _do_ know that, right?”

“I…”

It’s been a while since Steven’s tried to avoid an emotional talk. They’ve had quite a few of them over the past year, over phone calls and video chats against the shadowy backdrops of hotel rooms and cars. Greg is grateful when Steven doesn’t avoid the words that need to be said this time around, either.

Steven fiddles with the soda tab. “I don’t… I used to be really worried about talking to you about stuff like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like… feelings. About the past.”

Greg immediately knew. “I know. I was a bit iffy about it too.” The idea that he had parented his son imperfectly, especially when all he was doing was trying _not_ to be his own parents… it was hard, at first, to accept that there had been a few mistakes. It didn’t mean the whole thing was a bust, but… there were also some things to iron out. Some things to accept and bring to the open. When Steven first came to him equipped with suggestions from his therapist about how to essentially not crash a car while talking to his father about his childhood, Greg wasn’t the most receptive, but they had worked on it. And it was worth it, Greg thinks. He reaches backward to place his guitar down deeper into the recesses of the van, and crosses his legs, facing Steven. “What do you wanna talk about?”

He wonders what Rose would have done in the face of… everything. But it’s a common thought for him to have, so he barely pays it any mind.

Steven finally looks directly at him. His face is hesitant, but still open. “Well… I mean, it might not be anything! And it might not even - I mean, you might not have really noticed it. I dunno, fusion’s different for everybody. But -”

“Whoa, Schtu-ball, slow your roll. What’re we talking about again?”

Embarrassed a bit, Steven laughs, which Greg considers a success. “Sorry. Um… Remember - I guess it was like, two years ago now, geez - when we fused?”

The reminder is enough to make Greg smile. The entire moment was truly magical, even when weighed down by the stress and anxiety that inevitably came with saving the world. Greg solemnly throws up a “rock on” hand sign. “How could I ever forget Mr. Multiverse?”

“That’s what you called him?” Steven rubs at the hairs coming in on his chin. “I was calling him Steg this whole time.” His lips twist into a knowing smile, fully aware of how that sounds.

“You were _what?_ ” Greg pretends to be shocked, and then plays up a dawning realization. “You know what? Actually, I think that works. We got the first and last name down pat. That’s the start of being able to make a bank account and get a driver’s license, right?”

“Actually, how _would_ a human fusion function in society?” Steven questions. “Nevermind, that’s totally not the point.” He breathes deep and clunks his can down on the floor of the van, fingers interlocking with each other. “I’m bringing him up because something’s been bothering me about that night. Really, it kinda bothered me this entire time, but I was downplaying it a _lot_ since then, and other things had always been coming up, and it took me until now to realize that I don’t need a _good_ reason to talk about my feelings…” He exhales, fully ready to start talking for real. “Anyway.”

And then he just bites his lip, staring quietly at the beach that the van is sitting on.

“It’s okay, Steven,” Greg encourages carefully. “I’m all ears.”

“Yeah, you’re right, it’s fine,” Steven reassures, mostly to himself. “That song we performed… it was so on-the-fly, and _cool_ , and-and we both know it really came from our - uh - Steg’s heart. Hearts?” He wrinkles his nose at that and keeps going. “But did you, um, did you feel any _guilt_ during all that?”

In a flash, a memory stabs into Greg, a cacophony of emotion that he’d been reluctant to touch until now. The shared experience of a fusion was so mind-blowing, so all-encompassing, that he had never thought to, well, _think_ about the details. And it’s then that he asks Steven the same thing, even though he knows the answer. “Well. Did you?”

Steven nods slowly, a frown setting in. “I - as Steg it was amazing to feel all that love.” An amazed laugh and a small smile uplifts him for a moment. “But there was so much guilt, too. I - he felt responsible. He was responsible for a _lot_.”

 _It’s my fault_.

The lyrics ring loud and clear now, echoing through Greg’s head.

“At the time I didn’t even realize how guilty I had felt for so much stuff, like hurting Gems that were hurting me, or-or not being Mom -” Steven wipes at his eyelids before anything can come of it. “Or for being the one to make a _lot_ of things happen.”

“Steven -”

“No, let me finish,” he insists. “It was my voice, my words and ideas that made a lot of irreversible changes to the world. _Me_. But I’m working through guilt with my therapist right now, and I realized that…” Another wipe at his face. “I still felt it when we were fused. And, I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but… I don’t think I was alone.”

“...Um.” Greg tries not to seem small in the presence of his son. It makes him feel like he can’t protect him, makes him worry that he’s not up to the task. But he’s always been soft and expressive. One of the things his parents took issue with. And right now? Right now, Greg feels small.

This isn’t something he really takes the time to think about.

If Greg hadn’t been in the right place at the right time, performing to a crowd of one, then a lot of things wouldn’t have happened. Mostly good things, like Steven’s smile and Era 3 and probably Earth’s existence as they know it. But Greg’s seemingly harmless actions at - what, 25? Chasing down a girl he liked, it made ripples. Ripples for the Crystal Gems, who eventually lost their beloved leader. Pearl, who lost her Rose. And ripples for Rose herself, of course. He often wondered how she could have been alright with creating a child with _him,_ of all people - especially when it was always going to end the way it did. Because of him, Rose Quartz was no more. In retrospect, he had never been ready.

When were his decisions the right ones? When had he done the right thing, brought about the right outcomes?

He wonders if he had ever done such a thing now that he sees the history of Steven’s pain so clearly in hindsight.

“Dad, what do you feel guilty about?”

Greg is tense, hands curling and uncurling atop his lap in an atypical display of anxiety. “It’s not worth getting into, Steven. It’s not -”

“Why not!?”

Stunned into silence, Greg snaps his eyes back to his son.

Steven was never a child for outbursts. As a kid, sadness and confusion came easier to him than anger. The outbursts of today make sense, considering that people need their outbursts every now and again and in hindsight the kid had been hoarding outbursts as if he had been squirreling them away for some ever-imminent winter. This isn’t an outburst at the moment, per se, but certainly a more honest display of negative emotion than Steven was used to giving in the past.

Greg is grateful for that, but it doesn’t change the fact that every atom in his body recoils from answering. “Because!” He throws his hands out in a gesture that hopes to capture every little mystery and fear between his palms.

No dice. Steven pushes on. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to -” he runs a hand through his hair, tugging on black curls. “I just. I don’t want you to be running from emotions like - like I did. And I want to know.”

Steven’s eyes hold real fear, real concern. And deep, empathetic understanding.

And just like that, Greg deflates. He just opens his arms. “Is a hug alright, Schtu-ball?”

Steven doesn’t ask questions. He just nods and meets his dad half-way, so that their arms wrap around each other.

Greg holds on tight. “I love you kiddo. Know that none of this is your fault, okay? Not anything to do with the Gems, or your mother, or that intergalactic empire. Alright?” Steven just nuzzles into the shoulder of Greg’s shoulder. “Please tell me you know that.”

“I do. I do, like, in my brain. I’m working on feeling it for real.” Steven sniffs, and so does Greg. They had always both been easy criers. The ever-happy mask Steven slipped on for the past year or so has gone away, and Steven is crying frequently and easily again these days, and interestingly enough, Greg is happy to see it.

Perhaps he should slip off his mask too.

He holds his kid tight to his chest and tells him. He tells him about the kinds of feelings that no one had heard about from him since his other half had died. He tells him about the pangs that still linger when he sees Pearl, even though they’re getting along great now. He tells him about the fear that he took Rose from her true family.

They cry together, Greg cradling his son even though Steven’s height has been reaching past the limitations of most full-blooded humans at this point. And throughout it all, the darkening sky and the waves beating against the beach remain ever and always the same.

It’s a few more years before an occasion to fuse presents itself once more, and this time, there is no guilt.

**Author's Note:**

> this fandom is CRIMINALLY LACKING in Steg discussions/appearances, so. here I am after listening to Independent Together about 5,000 times and having Thoughts about that "it's my fault, it's my thought, it's my words, it's my voice" line.
> 
> For anyone who's tracking my WIPs, I'm sorry! I'm basically posting this in a rush in the middle of a beast of a semester. I will get to them eventually; this is the first thing I've written in a hot minute!


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